


Caravans

by Samsara



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Circus, Cults, Dystopia, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gen, Horror, Multi, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Post-Apocalypse, Time Travel, Troll Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsara/pseuds/Samsara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas.</p><p>With the game won, the trolls return to Alternia, although it's sweeps in the future. In this future, thanks to the lack of an heiress, Indigo blooded trolls have taken over, turning the planet into their own source of amusement. Upon returning to Alternia, the trolls are literally divided. The highbloods vanish into nothing, it seems, the lowbloods however, are herded up like cattle. The new law in Alternia has it that all lowbloods are required to live in traveling circuses, performing and entertaining the highbloods of the planet. Catch is, you need to find the balance between performing well, and performing poorly. But what does it matter to you? You just want to know that the others are safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Home

Your name is Karkat Vantas.

And if recreating your universe, and in turn, recreating your planet was going to be anything like it is now, you would have stayed on that meteor. Yes, in fact, that meteor seemed perfect, and cozy in comparison to the world you returned to. Time had not frozen in place at its destruction, no it certainly had not. If anything, time wove together. Trolls who were supposed to be long since deceased, characters of legend really, were wandering the planet, as if nothing had changed.  
Time had woven itself together two timelines. You blame it on shenanigans with space and time, mentally blaming it all on Aradia and Kanaya and their unrealized god tier potential.

As the door opens, Alternia changes. And as the twelve of you step out, prepared to pick up where life left off, you change with the planet. Sweeps have passed, not many, but just enough for you to notice yourselves getting taller as you leave the door and step into the open field before you. No longer are you all lanky, six sweep olds, instead there’s some growth to you, hazarding a guess at somewhere between ten and eleven.

The door closes behind you and there’s no longer an access back into the recesses of the Game. You’re home. You’ve won.  
Until you hear someone scream about seadwellers. You make note of Eridan and Feferi’s equally as confused exchange of looks. Feferi takes some initiative, calling out to the voices, declaring that the planets Heiress has arrived. No sooner does she say this does she scream, apprehended by large brutish trolls, wearing uniforms that have a highblooded flair.

The others all look at you, they all still see you as a leader to them, and you’re concerned. Why? The game is over. You’ve all done a little bit of growing up, it’s time to move on and forget things. But they’re waiting. In your hesitation, Eridan’s grabbed too, and it’s very clear that the two highest blooded of the hemospectrum of your party are in danger.  
You give the order to rescue them, all strife decks to be equipped that will cause minimal harm to your friends. It’s a miniature assault, resulting in two dead indigo blooded trolls. Gamzee’s unsettled, and you momentarily clasp your hand to his shoulder before you have a plan.

You all need to hide.

Hide, find out what’s going on, figure things out.

You resort to making your way to Nepeta’s hive. Hers is the most secluded, and the most easy one to hide in. You all gather there, cramped in its quarters. For a single troll, it’s massive. But for many, it’s a tight fit.

Sollux does what he can, trying to figure out what’s going on in the world. He hacks into databases you never thought possible. The douchebag.

And you all learn what happened.

In the absence of an Heiress, the highest landdwellers, the Indigo caste, rose to power. They culled any and all seadwellers as a means of asserting themselves as dominant caste. It was a society run by Subjugglators. Alternia had become their playground, and if killing had been hardly an offense before? It was a joke now. There was no one to keep them in check, and they just had fun killing off those beneath them.

Lowbloods were rare. Few and far between. They were mostly spared due to Indigo blooded trolls wanting to make sure they never ran out of their color for the murals that they liked to display over city walls (images provided through webcam, thanks Captor, you sonofabitch).

As far as they were concerned, they were all endangered species.

They had to rely on one another. They were all either the last of, or one of very few of their caste.

You realize you have to come clean.

You pull up the sleeve of your shirt, drawing a sickle out and slicing yourself open for everyone to see. You all have a common goal to survive now, and if most of your companions — no, it was alright to call them friends — were as scarce or strange as you it was safe.

The other watch as you look at the color with a sour face, only to hear jeers from Equius and Eridan, both about you as a freak. Another comment made from Terezi about the delicious smell, and how everyone already knew.

You pull your sleeve down, and you retaliate at Eridan, telling him off, since he’s just as weird as you are. You’re both different according to these new laws.  
There is no plan for what to do next. You decide you should probably stay hidden. Forever if you have to.

At least until Gamzee vanishes.

You wake up, after an intense feelings jam in one of Nepeta’s old piles of animal pelts. Pale feelings abound, between the both of you. It’s the first time you don’t want to choke Gamzee for being, well…Gamzee. Tiny diamonds decorate your peripheral, and you imply pale romance. He seems receptive, implies his approval. You and he lie there for a while before sleep strikes you both like a ton of bricks.

But he’s gone when you get up.

The diamonds in your peripheral shatter into stardust.

It’s another day before the plan to hide really crumbles.

Indigos find the cave. Terezi, Vriska and Equius are pulled away and forced off, disappearing from your sight. Eridan and Feferi run. It was their plan from the beginning to disappear the moment they saw more Indigo bloods. There’s no fighting this time.

You are a leader among lowbloods, surrounded by Highbloods who insist on seeing your colors. They tell you rather calmly, but with booming voices, that they won’t kill you if they approve.

Reassuring.

Kanaya is the only one separated by the rest. She’s important due to her blood and is spared, under both ancient, old and new Alternian law. When it’s your turn, you almost debate scooping up some of the yellow of Sollux’s blood from the ground and lie.

But you have your cut still visible from your confession to your friends so, with a high head, and fluttering pump biscuit, you show them the bright, candy colored red that courses through you.

You figure you’d be culled either way. For lying or for being a freak.

But much to your surprise…

They laugh. They speak of you as if you’re funny.

They don’t kill you. They put you with the others.

One by one, you’re all put into shackles. Shackles that look suspiciously like your sign. And one by one, you’re marched into what looks like a truck. You glance back to see Kanaya being brought away, looking back at you with that maternal smile that she seems to save for you.

The back of the truck is shut.

You’re alive. And you know for sure some of your friends are. But you worry about the rest.

“Karkitty…?”

Nepeta’s voice sounds almost foreign after what happened.

“Yeah?”

Your throat is dry but you try and sound confident, even though you’re almost convinced that this truck is taking you all to a meat grinder.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of why you’ve been feeling like a failure. You’re letting them down if you don’t know. You could be honest, and say you didn’t have any idea, or you could scare them by saying what you think was going to happen.

But before you can respond, you hear the driver respond.

He says that you’re not going to die. As long as you all do your jobs.

“And just what the fuck is that?” you ask, trying to keep calm and keep your friends safe.

And the driver just laughs.

He says he hopes that you kids like circuses.


	2. Ladies and Gentlemen

Where the truck had brought you was a ratty old tent in the middle of who fucking knows where. Outside of it were several dozen other trolls, of varying low colors. You and the others are pulled from the truck quickly and put into a line as if being shown off. You glance at Tavros, standing next to you with his metal legs, staring at the ground beneath his mechanical feet. You nudge him with a shoulder to catch his attention, causing him to stumble, the metallic clanging alerting the other three.

You imply that you want to run. If you time it right (and with Aradia’s help) you could all escape and go looking for the others. Sollux’s eyes roll with a sort of “Are you fucking thupid?” sort of glance.

Yeah, maybe you are.

The thought lingers in your mind for a few minutes before a larger troll, a symbol of three circles in a horizontal line, connected by small lines. It’s in a slightly blue shade of violent, and he’s obviously the indigo in charge by the way he carries himself. He’s not as large as you’ve heard people of this caste can get. You’ve heard some get to be over nine feet tall, so this guy (probably about six and a half feet at most) is a runt from what you know. His shirt is cropped at the shoulders, fabric rather frayed, and violent and black, fingerless gloves reaching towards his elbows. He’s smiling, but it’s not a menacing going-to-kill-you-fuckers sort of smile. More of an overly zealous, prideful one.

He thanks the driver, and makes what you hope is an empty threat, to kill the poor bastard if he hangs around any longer. 

He looms over you, hair long, partially falling in his face, but what’s in the back is held into place with a thick hairband. Upon closer inspection you realize it’s all dreadlocks, and what’s hanging in his face are just some strands that never really made the dreading process. He blows a breath from out of his mouth clearing the hair for a moment as he lowers himself to get a good look at you.

Even with the sudden aging, you’re hardly even at five and a half feet tall, and you seem rather pathetic for your age.

“Hearda ‘bout you little motherfuckers,” he says as he reaches out, cupping your chin to get a better look. Wasn’t the first one good enough. “Heard y’all came outta’n invisible door leadin’ t’space.” He has an accent, you notice Sollux being the first to pick up on it. It’s an urban accent, from lowblood cities.

“More like a transporatlizer.” Aradia speaks up, getting the bastards attention. Somehow, the return to the game has miraculously breathed life into her again, as well as a confidence you had forgotten about. The indigo stomps his way towards her, but not with malice of any sort, although his actions are rough.

He grabs her by the hand and simply makes a cut to see her color, and rolls his eyes, chuckling beneath his breath. He utters something about lowblooded simpletons that makes you want to strike him. But he’s jovial. Almost nice towards the lot of you.

“Now I dun’care much for what color you little grublets are,” he says to you, waving a large, clawed hand about nonchalantly. “All I care izzat you know how to work, and can put on a good show. Wunna get my ass runnin’ a spectacular show for the Elites, gettin’ me the easy life for the next lususlovin’ sweeps.”

He leans in close to Nepeta, giving her a grin that would curdle milk. He’s breathing right in her face to the point she has to life her hands and cover her nose with her sleeve. Sure, trolls are used to stench and filth, but no one likes it having it shoved in their face.

“I’ll be havin’ y’all know I go by Kedali Lemnos. No fuckin’ nicknames. No KeKe—” You hear Sollux laugh under his breath. “No Dali. Kedali. If you little fuckers get it in your head to tease about it, I’ll just be askin’ you how you’d preferred to be cooked — boiled or roasted. ‘Cause I gotta lot of hungry shits to feed, and they like them some meats.”

You know it’s not uncommon. You know that trolls eat culled grubs, you know that if a troll is starving, and they somehow have a dead body, it’s not unheard of for someone to make a meal of another troll. It’s not cool to go out and deliberately snack on someone. But in a life or death situation? People just turn the other cheek.

But this was an open threat. Kedali was serious. You had always thought Indigo bloods liked jokes and humor. Apparently not if it’s at their expense.

“No worrieth about callin’ you KK, he’th thtanding over there,” Sollux speaks up and you swear you could drive your fist through his mouth if you could. He’s pointing at you, smirking like a complete tool.

You can already see the…friendly sparks between Kedali and Sollux and your stomach quits on you. Not so much in the immediate need to vomit sort of quitting, but the kind where you can already feel it trying to claw its way out of your abdomen. Kedali’s smiling again, that prideful, arrogant one that you can already see yourself jumping to conclusions about. Ever the cassanova of black feelings, you hold your tongue in preparation to snap at him with the cleverest of witty slurs for the highblood.

“This nubby fucker?” he says as he comes over to you, pinching your horn between a large thumb and forefinger. Normally, gestures like this would send warm tingles through you due to their close proximity to your skull. Instead, it hurts, causing you to wince, trying to tug free.

“Let go of you you maggot-scented tower of hoofbeast shit!” you snap at him when he doesn’t relent. Kedali starts laughing, and you’ve already concluded that this individual is someone you would prefer to never deal with again.

“Wha’z your name, shitstain?” you’re rather disgusted to hear that he’s using insults as terms of endearment. That was your next move, if you and he were to start arguing.

“Bulgewiff Nookstain, jerkhole, now let me the fuck go!” Kedali laughs momentarily, digging one of his nails into your skull.

“Cute, tell me Bulgewiff, your lusus give you that name, or are ya jus’ bein’ ironic?” The nails dig deeper before he finally lets go. “Real name.”

You’re beyond relieved when his hand frees itself from your horn, because he was pinching, making it far too uncomfortable to ever be enjoyable. “Karkat Vantas,” you say, a hand now massaging your horn, as if to apologize to the nubby excuse of a thing, for being mistreated.

Kedali grins at you, and your stomach flops again, and you find yourself glowering at him as he gathers names from the other four with you.

“Non’a you got last names no more.” he says pointedly. “Ain’t more than one’a each’a you here, so last names got no meanin’. Your last names, like the rest’a you, b’long t’me now.”

You start to reply to him, something pitifully and mentally rehearsed. You’d been waiting for him to say something like this. Something that would give you the excuse to tap into a side of yourself that stretched back generations to an ancestors time. You’d mentally rehearsed telling this fucker off. But before you can even breathe a word of it.

“There’ere’s my show. And you better perform up to standards. You shits gotta give me your specialties. Tell me what you can do. Give me a fucking act to put you on with. And none of this bullshit joke telling. You got the night, you come up with something good, and you won’t be breakfast tomorrow.”

That’s the last thing Kedali says before he backs off, and leaves the five of you alone.

You feel like being alone with them is the best thing you can hope for right now.


	3. Set the Stage

You’re the last one to settle in. Almost instantly, you find that Sollux and Aradia are teaming up for an act. Figures they would, you’d always noticed how well they worked together. Nepeta and Tavros seem to have ideas involving Tavros’s animal communication and Nepeta’s hunting prowess.

You however, have no special talents. At least nothing in regards to entertaining.

After Kedali departed, a rather dirty looking yellow blood came over to you. He seemed to have a duality complex similar to Sollux’s, four horns on his head instead of two. The back two were thin, and stuck up about three inches longer than the shorter ones which were practically nubs. Upon his shirt was a circle with a curved line sticking from the middle, with two other curving lines crossing it. He’s tall, skinny, almost malnourished. His hair’s slicked back, held in place by two pairs of glasses, lens a different color, contrasting the glasses (mimicking Sollux’s) on his face.

He looked tired, and rather displeased to see Sollux, almost as if he knew him, but you doubted it.

“Fresh meat, eh?” he says, a rather bored sounding quality to his voice as gold-hued psionic light emits from him as he walks past you and your friends to an old looking tent. From within it, cushions, none of them matching, and some tattered old sheets (or were they curtains?) came towards him. “There are no ‘coons here. You get cots. You not used to nightmares, prepare yourself for a world of hell.”

As he walks past all of you, a cushion and a curtain being shoved rather forcefully at all of you, and he keeps walking. Sollux is the one who decides to really speak up. You have nothing to say to him, and you just let Sollux be Sollux.

“Are you theriouth?” he asks, pushing past you to walk right behind this new troll as he seems to be guiding you somewhere. “Yeah nithe to meet you too, jackath.”  
You watch as the other troll glances over his shoulder at Sollux, seemingly curious.

“And what’th with the eckthtra glatheth? You trying to be tho ironic that even your glatheth need glatheth?” He laughs a bit, and you want to slap him. Fuck, you know what he’s doing is a dumb move, and you open your mouth to tell him to knock the shit off, but the other troll gets there first.

He flips one pair of glasses over his eyes, a pair of teal and violet colored lenses and pushes the red and blue ones up on to his head, and he outstretches a hand at Sollux. It’s glowing with violet psionics, and the energy darts around Sollux’s neck. The unnamed troll makes a fist and the psionics clench, and you can almost hear the breath rush from Sollux.

“As a matter of fact, that’s how it started.” he says, holding the fist. “I’ll also have you know that it’s a fucking tribute.” He grins a bit, and the boredness seems to vanish from his voice, and he’s smiling, his voice somewhat playful. “You know any psionics who died for us? To keep us from bein’ highblood playthings?” The violet psionics release Sollux who starts to choke for breath, Aradia quickly going to his side to make sure he’s breathing alright.

“And what was that for?!” Aradia’s turn to speak up, but this time you intervene, stopping her. But your guide already has his other hand lit up with teal light, as if to threaten her.  
You stand between her and the unknown assailant, holding your ground, defending your teammates like a leader should.

You should have stepped in before he attacked Sollux.

Some leader.

“We don’t want any trouble, sewerslut.” You say to him, tossing a playful insult his way. “That asshole back there’s default personality is dick, so there’s no fucking need to choke him every time he speaks up.”

“Yeah, that’s nice.” is his only response as he stops in front of a tent nearby, head nudging towards it. Aradia and Sollux have fallen to the back, her concern for him showing as she puts a hand on his shoulder, making sure he’s not going to attack the other psionic. The other troll holds a flap open to the tent, revealing inside all of these vertical, transportable sleeping devices. Planks with what look like matts filled with honkbeast down laid across them. “Make yourselves comfortable kids, or don’t. I don’t care.”

You turn to the troll to try and get some name out of him but he’s closed the tent after you and the others go inside. Other trolls are in there, some on top bunks, some on bottom ones. They’re staring at you, unwanted intruders, and you can already tell how unwelcome all of you are.

“There ain’t enough bunks!” someone in the tent shouts. “One’a ya’s gotta leave!”

You look at the others, expecting volunteers, but you cave.

“Can I just sleep on the ground?”

“Ya can if ya don’t mind soakin’ yerself!”

You look at the others. A captain goes down with his ship, or in your case, a leader makes sacrifices.

“You guys take them. I’ll sleep on the ground, Tavros, get a bottom one. I don’t know how well you can handle getting on top yet.”

Aradia smiles, calling you a good friend, a disgruntled thanks from Sollux, and a nervous grin from Tavros. The three of them venture towards the only open bunks, leaving you with Nepeta for a moment. She’s taken her hat and coat off, holding them close to her along with the tattered sheet and cushion.

“Um,” she speaks up nervously and you glance to her as she hands you her hat and coat. “If you’re going to sleep on the grrround, why don’t you take these? It might get really cold.”

You feel your lips pull into a slight smile, but it doesn’t last.

“You sure?” you say to her, looking somewhat concerned, hoping it’s not something stupid she’s doing. Her head gives a faint nod, becoming perma-stuck in a downcast position.  
You take advantage of it and slide the hat back on to her head. “Keep the hat,” you say. “Equius made it for you, right?” Another small nod.

“Yes, I—” You heard what was coming before it even happened.

Nepeta just hunches her shoulders up, almost every bit of her body growing tense as she keeps her ground. You realize what’s going on. She’s going to cry. And as much as it annoys you to hear the sound of crying, you don’t blame her. You saw how the fluid of her eyes seemed to grow more like liquid in the few seconds she looked at you, and how her cheeks were already pouting, as if already sobbing.

You put an arm on her when the waterworks begin, trying to console her. Trying to keep her quiet, to keep her from making a scene.  
You know why she’s crying.

With a moiraillegiance as strong as hers and Equius’s, it had to be painful to watch a bunch of highbloods guide him away from her, to god knows where. Possibly to be culled. 

You vaguely understand. Sweeps of romantic comedies of all quadrants, and having just recently dipped your toes into pale romance yourself, you genuinely think you at least have an idea.

“Hey, hey, shoosh, c’mon Nepeta. Don’t cry.” you say to her quietly. Her crying has alerted some people. You hear jeers of how she won’t make it a week, and all you can do is snarl beneath your breath and try and get Nepeta to calm down. “Let’s go find you that other bunk, alright?”

She picks up a hand to wipe at her eyes, trying to look directly at you, but you can tell she might start crying again if you don’t get her settled soon.  
Moiraillegiance is hard, and no one understands.

You especially.

You think you do, but in the long run?


	4. Front Row Seats

Sleep doesn't come.

 

It doesn't come at all. You merely sit on the partially soaked ground, wrapped up in the shitty cushion and curtain, grateful for Nepeta's coat for the extra bit of warmth. You confess to yourself that you would not be surprised if your fingers have to be sliced off in the morning due to them being frozen solid.

You wake up every few hours, squinting to avoid the bright sunlight creeping into the tent. You take a look at the others, making sure they're fine. You do notice that Nepeta's been shivering every time you woke up. So you relent, putting her coat back over her.

Better her than you.

When sunset finally comes, you almost wish you had left the tent before darkness settled in. You would have liked to warm up. Just a little, even if you would be risking sunburn and heat sickness.

When the others get up, Tavros is the first to notice you. He already sees that you're exhausted and he comes to sit on the ground with you as you wait for the others to wake up.

"Uh, did you not sleep?" he asks you, as you seem incredibly focused on a squeakbeast scurrying beneath one of the cots. You don't look at him, knowing that if you do, he's going to give you this utterly sympathetic smile that's going to turn your stomach. Mostly because you wish you could just grin and bear it like he does.

Your head shakes faintly, and you hear the concern in his voice when he replies with a quiet "oh". You turn back at him and see him looking at his metal legs, flicking them with a finger, a light pinging sound resonating from them. "You can use my bed tonight because, that's kind of, uh, you know, what a strong person would do--"

"I'm fine, Tavros." you're sharp with him. You don't want him to feel like he has to accommodate you. "Your legs might rust if you sleep down here." You notice Tavros smiling at you, and you almost want to scream. You don't see why anyone should smile at you. Not now, not ever.

"I think you're being a very good leader. Even if it means you have to sleep in puddles and not be very comfortable."

It feels nice to be told he thinks you're a good leader.

But what's it matter?

"Thanks, I guess." You have to look away from him, knowing if you try and look at him smiling anymore you're going to scream. You want to.

You hear him take a breath as if he's going to speak again, but you're interrupted.

There's a loud clanging sound that begins to ring through the tent, sounding like a gong going off. Most of the people in bunks start to get up and shuffle from their cots, rising at the sound of the gong. Behind you, you hear Sollux swear,and the static of his psionics reacting to the intrusive sound.

The flap of the tent opens and you see the yellowblood from the night before standing there. He doesn't look like he's slept either. You watch as other trolls all shuffle out around him and he walks in towards the middle of the tent where you and the others are located.

"Gemini," he says to Sollux, ignoring the rest of you. "Boss says you're my responsibility, get over here." Sollux snorts, positioned on the top cot, glancing down at the other troll.

"And what maketh you think I actually am going to lithten to you?" he asks with classic condescending jerkiness to his voice. The yellowblood simply switches his glasses to the violet and teal ones again, narrowing his eyes rather threateningly.

"You want to know what it's like to be a corpse?" he asks, using a mist of violent psionic energy to lift Sollux off his cot and drop him on the ground. "You're comin' with me."  
He then passes you and the others a quick glance. "Hope you got your acts planned, rumor of meat for the week is spreading already."  
You'll find out later that other members of the show were already placing bets of which of you would get culled first. Their money's on either Tavros, or you.

You're in the lead.  
The yellowblood leads Sollux out of the tent, instructing you and the others to go wait outside for Kedali. He's going to determine if your ideas are good enough. You don't even have a thought about what you could do. The others all have skills that could save their asses.  
But you've got nothing.

Without Sollux, the rest of you are guided outside. You stand next to Nepeta as you form a horizontal line outside Kedali's tent. He's not awake yet, you're told, but you're instructed to stay there until he does rise.

Nepeta stands next to you, and she's back in her coat again, looking at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Why'd you give it back?" she asks, fussing with the buttons on her sleeves before looking down at the ground, her blue furry slippers getting dampened by the grass.

"You were shivering." you say rather flatly, catching the glimmer of a smile on her face. "As stupid as it sounds, you're the highblood among us, and, I guess it's just expected of me to--"

"Thanks." She smiles at you and gives you a hug that you have to confess to yourself--is really needed. However, you tense up, stiffening your entire body up like a board, making the sounds of discomfort before she pulls away. Not a time to show weakness.

When she finally pulls back, you look over at Aradia and Tavros. You're not so much surprised at how they're accepting this change of events, but instead, you're more pleased to see that they've somehow found comfort in each other. Maybe they just always expected this. You've lived your life assuming that even with your mystery box blood color, you could pretend to be a highblood, or at least someone whose color doesn't bother them. With Aradia and Tavros? You realize that with their rank in the spectrum, maybe they were expecting worse to happen to them. Maybe this is actually okay with them, in their books?

You hear yelling from within Kedali's tent. Someone has woken him up, and from the sounds of it --the sounds being someone screaming, and the gut wrenching crackles of bones snapping -- he's been woken up far too early for his liking. 

You and your friends all line up, looking straight ahead as Kedali pushes the flaps of the tent open. In one hand, he's dragging the obvious remains of a troll. The only bits you can tell from this, is that between his fingers is a mangled leg, the foot twisting out at an obviously impossible angle. Attached to the leg, dragging along the grass is an apple-green shade, staining a trail with mangled entrails as Kedali steps towards you. 

He tosses the leg to the side, actually, it's more along the lines of him tossing it towards someone. A small girl with round glasses and fan shaped horns catches the leg, nearly screaming as the yellowy-green splashes on to her shirt. "I promised meat, didn' I?" Kedali growls his eyes narrowing, lips pulling back into a snarl. The girl, rather squeakbeasty in appearance nods and runs off, the entrails still dragging along the ground behind her.

You decide today is not a day to piss this guy off. You decide that no day is a day to piss this guy off. If he mangled a body from being woken up, you decide that unless you are genuinely suicidal, or planning on soliciting this motherfucker for black rom, you will never talk shit to him.

"Surprised no one fuckin' ate'cha." he says unamused, before noting that Sollux wasn't there. "He get eaten or--"

"That other psionic took him," Aradia says quickly, only for Kedali to get in her face.

Not so much in her face, but a large hand grabs her by the jaw, lifting her up somewhat, so her toes are just barely touching the ground.

"DID YOU HEAR ME FINISH MY MOTHERFUCKIN' QUESTION BOTTOMDWELLER?" he roars, alerting nearby workers to his presence. Good evening, Alternia, Kedali has risen.

Aradia's already pushing at his hands, and you see her fumbling for her strife deck, searching for something viable to attack with. You start searching for your sickles, but it's as if you never had a deck equipped in the first place.

The only reason she falls, is thanks to that psionic prick. He's walking past with Sollux, violet energy warping around Kedali's hand to the point he releases her. You watch as the mist pulsates, practically relaxing the muscles in the highbloods wrist. The yellowblood looks at the four of you, especially as you go over to Aradia, needing to know if she's alright.

You have just enough of a window to check on her, as Kedali starts yelling at the yellowblood.

"An' just what was that for, Ramula?" he snarls, as you help Aradia to her feet again, a quiet thanks being uttered from her. She's a strong girl. She managed to die before, and come back. You think maybe she'll do the best out of all you.

"Kid has a crush," The yellowblood, who you now know is named Ramula, says. "He's planning on doing his act with her."

Kedali seems unamused but he accepts it, and then shoos Aradia away to join with Sollux and the other yellowblood.

"An' whaddabout you three?" he asks, his tone grumpy, sounding as if he just wants to go back to sleep for the rest of the night.

Tavros and Nepeta want to work together also. Animal manipulation and Nepeta's ability to fight wildbeasts? Kedali seems altogether accepting of the idea, though not too impressed. He sends them on their way.

And it's just you and him.

"So you got somethin' mindblowin' for me, kid?" he asks, pinching your horn again, muttering under his breath about you being nothing more than a wiggler.

You wince, snapping at him to let go, which he does, as if he's expecting something great from you.

"No, I don't." you say quickly. "I'm not good at anything you narcissistic highbloods would find entertaining. So if that's not good enough, just cull me now."

You watch as his expression falls, looking at you as if he's going to crush your entire body, and toss it to another passing troll for dinner that night. But carefully, you watch him.

You watch as his lips pull across his cheeks, and he laughs, a jovial sort of twinkle in his blue-violet eyes. And when he speaks, you nearly want to vomit. It's not so much what he says, but how he says it that makes you sick.

It's light. Playful. Cheerful and nearly innocent.

And it terrified you when he says it.

"Yer the mutant, aren't ya?


	5. Ready the lights

Kedali wastes no time, and he brings you into his tent. He has a legitimate recuperacoon in his tent, inciting envy in you. Someone gets to sleep, at least.

He sits you down on top of a crate as he sits on the edge of his cocoon. He's smiling, rather warmly, although you can't help but find it unpleasant. From where he's seated, and from where you are, he manages to grab your arm, and pull you over to look at your skin. His fingers, large and calloused run over the couple of cuts on your arm from revealing your color. His nail flicks beneath one of the slowly forming scabs and pulls it back to see the color.

When the cherry swill rolls down your arm, he just manages to smile wildly, transfixed as the color drips, tracing unseen lines on your flesh. There's a feral sort of sparkle in his eyes as he looks at the fluid. You're getting sick of it all. Getting sick of how highbloods have labeled you as their new favorite plaything, just because of your blood.

Then again, it's something you always expected.

"Been hearin' rumors 'bout gettin' m'self a mutant." he says, grinning as he uses the same finger he used to make you bleed, to scoop up the color. He lifts his finger, eyeing your blood, as if it's gold. His fingers smear the blood together, watching as it sticks together.

"Well good for you, tada, I guess I'm here. Now what? You make me dinner? Because I should probably warn you that I've always thought that mutations probably make meat taste like moldy nookwaste." You have to get defensive. You don't know what else to do in this situation.

And to your surprise, Kedali laughs, licking the remnants of your blood from his fingers. You feel your stomach churn, almost as if you may have just witness him lick the blood right from the cut.

"Not at all, little punchline--" You swear you've heard Gamzee call you that before. "I feel like ya could be my real sellin' point with my show, kid."

You don't like the sound of it.

But Kedali starts to answer the unspoken questions you might have.

"Yeah, I know what t'do with you. We'll make ya our closer. You and the other little freaks I gotta 'round here. Use all'a them to lead up t'ya. We'll end the show by makin' ya bleed. We'll make a spectacle of it. Pay a little extra, get to cut the mutant--"

You can't stand for this.

"What the fuck is going through your pan, prince dickmunch?!" you scream. "You're going to put me up as an involuntary masochist?!"

Kedali merely leans back, holding his stomach as he laughs.

"You say that as if ya have a choice!" he chuckles, making your stomach flip. "We'll keep ya alive, if that's what you got yer ass worryin' about!"

Yeah, that was actually the least of your concerns.

Your concern is about being laughed at.

 

Kedali kicks you out after a minute, with the intent to slide back into his cocoon and go back to sleep for another few hours. Lazy ass.

But when you come back out, you find Nepeta and Tavros already working with some wild purrbeasts to see if they can time some things together properly. When Nepeta looks at you, she actually seems to be in disbelief. She apparently was almost as convinced as you were that you were going to get killed by Kedali for not having an act.

You sit on the ground as you watch the two of them work for a moment. Tavros gets the purrbeasts to sit down and stay still as he and Nepeta come over to you, both seeming somewhat surprised to see you unharmed.

"So what are you doing?" Tavros asks, as you give a faint shrug of your shoulders.

"Bleeding."

Nepeta pulls her coat beneath her legs and sits down next to you, Tavros remains standing, just in case the ground is wet.

"What is that going to do? Is that your act?" She puts a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch, pulling your knees to your chest.

"Yeah. Apparently the show ends with all the mutants--"

It strikes you as you say this. There are other mutants.

You stop speaking, and you stare ahead, examining some of the other trolls going about their wok. Among these other trolls, there are other mutants. Does it mean there are other trolls of your horrific color? Or is it something else?

"Karkat?"

Nepeta interrupts you, and you get up, with a quiet apology to her.

There are other mutants in this show.

You are not alone.

"He wants to make me part of the closing act, along with the other mutants in the show." You don't show it on your face, but there's something almost exciting about knowing that there are others in your situation. "He wants to show off my blood as the final closing act."

You notice concern from the both of your friends. You explain quickly that you won't die.

But what good are Kedali's promises to you?

You can't guarantee that you won't die from this, but you have to give both of them something to hold on to.

You run off. You don't want to abandon them like this, and it's not like you're going far. You want to know if you're alone or not.

You get a few jeers from other trolls who are busy working, a few comments asking why you aren't chopping firewood, or preparing meals. You don't know how things work around here, so you ignore them. It all seems so mechanical.

It's not until you round one of the tents that another troll crashes into you. You swear as it feels like you've just collided with a brick wall. Turns out it's just this solid fucker in your way.

"'EY! Watch where you're fuckin' goin' ya tiny prick!" you hear the other troll yell as he grabs you by the shirt, tugging you so he can get a good look at you. He's with two other trolls, all of which seem to be the same color. All brown bloods, and all solidly built, and all looking really angry to be stumbled upon. You wonder why you didn't just turn around after you crashed into them.

"The fuck izzat?" one of them says as they look at the grey sign on your shirt.

"Why's it gray?" The one grabbing your shirt tugs you a little more.

"Do you think you're fuckin' special? Wearing a colorless sign?"

One of the other trolls comes behind you and slips his arms beneath yours and grabs you, holding you tight up against him. You start to squirm, trying to slide free from him, shouting all the while.

"Only trolls with something to hide wear gray signs." he breathes in your ear. You feel his mouth pull into a grin as one of the others pulls a knife from a strife deck.

He yanks the bottom of your shirt up and the three of them share a laugh. "Betcha he's some kinda freak," he says.

You feel the icy sting of a knife as it slashes across your stomach. You've been cut by blades before. And they always feel the same. You don't feel it until the blood starts. It's always just a small pinch, and when the blood begins, the throbbing and the ache starts as well.

It's not a deep cut either. It's just the surface. But it's still enough that you're all too aware that it's going to hurt later tonight, as well as tomorrow.

The three trolls start laughing. It's a similar laugh to Kedali's.

So far, every laugh you've heard in reference to your blood has been the same.

You just remind yourself that it's better you than the others.

You remind yourself that the leader takes the hits as the other three start to throw punches at you, give you another few more deserving cuts and pricks with knives and claws.

You remind yourself that this is probably going to be life from now on.

Even if you're not the only mutant, you realize it's not going to be any easier for you.


	6. Our Opening Act

You stumble out from behind the tent, somewhat disoriented, and sick to your stomach. You know full well that these stupid fuckers who ganged up on you just made you bleed far too much for your liking. So when you show yourself, the first person to react is Ramula. He’s not very amused to see you bleeding so much. Sollux is nowhere in sight, but you don’t worry about it for now.

“What the fuck happened to you?” the yellowblood says as he saunters over to you with a look of accomplishment in being a raging douchebag. “You try and off yourself?

“Real fucking funny, I got my ass handed to me, if you couldn’t fucking tell.” you snap back at the yellowblood, as he switches his glasses to a pair of brown and green lenses. His wrist flicks at you, causing you to tense up in anticipation of being struck by some sort of painful blast of energy.  
Instead, a warm sort of tingle overcomes you and Ramula lifts you with some of the energy and starts walking. You’re not floating exactly, but more like hovering, your feet only grazing the grass beneath you.

“If Kedali sees you like this he’ll cull you on the spot, mutant act or not.” Ramula continues to pull you with him before ducking into an ancient looking, army green tent, cutting the psionics energy right before he sets you down on a crate.

“Where’s the biggest cut, I need to get that one first.”

You lift your shirt and show him the wound on your stomach from where the brown bloods first cut you.

And Ramula starts to play surgeon. It’s a strange process, and a painful one at that involving needles and thread, as well as the burning sting of red psionics as wounds are cauterized and then cooled off. You’ve heard of back alley psionic surgeons, but you never expected to be receiving something along those lines.

It stings like a bitch, but you manage to tough it out and Ramula sits back after he finishes the impromptu job of stitching you up.

You utter a quiet thank you before realizing he’s not moving yet. He didn’t disappear like he had the night before. You don’t want to move either, a little nervous about stretching anything out already.

“Kedali is going to work you to death, you know.” Ramula finally speaks up and he appears to be watching some people working outside. “Not your friends, just you.”

You aren’t surprised.

“Really? You just making assumptions or you trying to scare me?”

“Scare you.” He’s quick and to the point when he retorts. “We get a mutant every couple’a weeks, and he works them as hard as he possibly can. They either croak or get traded to the mutant caravans.”

You ask him what he means by mutant caravans.  
“There’s a troupe that’s been going around, collecting mutants. Crazy blood colors, deformities, psychological issues. Highbloods and lowbloods, all collected in one fucking tent. It’s chaos. I’ve seen it once.” He takes a moment to pause, thinking of a way to describe it. “Blood like yours, only seen three others pass through with that color. But you’re probably the youngest. Blood mutations are common though, we see some people with bright yellow, or neon blue now and then. Doesn’t matter if they’re high or low on the spectrum, they all get herded together. Usually the mutant caravans carry around highbloods who are unstable. Usually indigo or bluebloods.”

He glances over at you, noticing how you gave the faintest of reactions (you hadn’t even realized) when he spoke of indigo bloods.

“They have a couple of seadwellers too. Don’t let anyone fool you when they say sea dwellers went instinct and that the High Brother killed them all. They rounded up a few of them just for the caravans. It’s a whole other world in there. Makes shows like ours seem tame and loving by comparison. It’s a traveling freakshow.”

“So, what. I’m gonna get traded to one?” you ask while Ramula pauses again.

“If you’re lucky. Kedali might just kill you first. He likes to break the mutants down, make it so they’re untradeable, and he can keep them on board as his own acts, so the mutant caravans don’t want ‘em.” You notice him fishing into a pocket, and pull out what looks to be cylindrical cancer sticks. You almost laugh. Almost. Ramula puts one in his mouth and uses the heat from some of his psionics to light the end. “If you take a look, you’ll probably be able to figure out who’s a mutant by who works the hardest.”

“But everyone’s working their ass off,” you comment as you peer out to watch people. “How can you tell who’s working harder?”

“Watch.”

You keep your eyes focused outside for a few minutes, and in the distance, close to the tent where you had attempted to sleep throughout the day, you see this girl. She’s got long hair, nearly dragging on the ground. The work she’s doing seems to be trivial, and you wonder for a moment if it has a point at all. There’s just a giant log in front of her and she’s pushing it over the grass. There isn’t anything beneath the log, but she’s still pushing it, even though you can see the grass and dirt beneath it puckering, indicating that the log won’t move any further. You watch as another troll, a guy possibly a sweep older than her goes over and seems to be offering to help her.

But you watch as the color fades from her face and she panics. You don’t know what she’s saying, but you can see the look on her face. You can see how she’s starting to raise her volume, and how she’s getting more and more nervous. You listen, hoping to catch a sound of something, you hear ‘Please, I’m supposed to do it alone!’

You keep watching and you see the male troll try and touch her, you’re assuming he’s telling her he’ll help anyways, because after his hand brushes her shoulder he starts to push the log. And you see the girl suddenly scream. And it’s not a normal scream. It’s enough to make ears bleed. You jam your fingers in your ears, scratching the inside slightly with your nails, but you can still hear her screaming. You watch as other trolls nearby are doing the same. Some others drop, collapsing. It really was an earsplitting sound and you wonder what just happened.

When silence comes Ramula guides your hands from your ears. “That’s Aossid. She normally wears a mask over her mouth to muffle her voice but the louder she gets the more likely she is to scream, and well…”

He nudges his head to the outside of the tent as some of the trolls who dropped start to climb back on to their feet. “That guy must be new to think he’s allowed to help her out…I’ll have to talk to him.”

“So why is she even pushing it?” you ask, referring to the log.

“So she learns her place as a bottom rung.”

You keep your eyes focused on her as she goes to the troll who had tried to help her. He collapsed when she started to scream, and she seems to be trying to apologize without raising her voice at him.

“Kedali’s had her for almost a sweep now. He knows that her screaming is a money maker so he keeps her on board, but makes sure that she’s too exhausted on trade days for anyone to want to take her. That’ll probably be you in due time—fuck.”

Ramula pushes his way past you, and you see why. Kedali has been woken up again and he’s trudging out from within his tent, his hands still blood from the troll who woke him earlier. He’s trudging towards Aossid, holding what appears to be a giant hammer of sorts in his grip. You start to leave the tent, wanting to figure out just what’s going on, and you catch a better look at the weapon. It’s a heavily industrialized tomahawk.

Ramula’s already beat him. He’s over at Aossid before Kedali can even get close, but you’re closing in too.

Maybe it’s the idea of having a kindred spirit in seeing this other mutant. Before you can even make sense of what your feet are doing, you’re standing with Ramula, near the mutant girl.

She’s looking at you with this expression, as if she’s pleading with you not to kill her. You think for a moment that that’s what she thinks is going to happen.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” you say, trying to be reassuring, despite Kedali blitzkrieging his way towards the three of you. 

“Iz’bout time I got ridda that screamin’ wreck!” you hear Kedali roar as he pushes you to the side, leaving only Ramula between the large troll and the mutant. “Been gittin’ waked up too much thanks to her motherfuckin’ trap!”

“She was being targetted by a newcomer, sir.” Ramula says as Kedali starts to push him aside, reaching towards Aossid, grabbing her by the long hair that trailed in a heap behind her. He lifts her up, by the very ends of her hair, watching as she struggles. The amusement in the smile that forms on his face causes you to actually feel sick.

“Wozzamatter?” he says as he leans in towards her face, breathing that awful, stench he called breath right in her face. “Ain’tcha gonna scream for me, l’il banshee?” You hear her whimpering, like she wants to scream again. “Thought we’d gotten ya a little mask to keep ya quiet. Whatever happened to that? Not enough?”

You watch as Aossid’s mouth opens and she tries to scream but no sound comes out this time. The sound that you hear instead is Kedali laughing. He drops the girl for a moment, only to lift her up again and toss her over his shoulder.

“Ramula, tell the otha freaks they don’t need t’perform tonight.” he says with a low chuckle. “We got ourselves a nice l’il closer. A l’il sacrifice, howzzat sound?”

You watch as the girl struggles in Kedali’s grip as the troll walks away with her. You know she’d be screaming, but only silence comes from her now. Not a sound as Kedali vanishes into a tent, leaving you and Ramula alone.

“What’s he gonna do to her?” you ask, hearing the other troll swear.

“What the fuck do ya think he’s gonna do?” he says. “He’s gonna make a fuckin’ example of her tonight! Sacrifice, to those fucking messiahs or some shit. That fucking highblood religion that’s become pretty much the whole reason these circuses even exist.”

You glance in the direction Kedali walked off in, and then to Ramula who is walking away.

You didn’t like him before, but you’ve realized that he knows things and might be able to help. And you really don’t like Kedali, and you can tell the same feeling is felt from Ramula for him. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. You decide this is a good mantra to adhere to.

“You were a raging dickburger yesterday, so let me get something straight now—” You grab him by the arm. “You treated me and my friends like shit, now you’ve not only helped me, but I think you were just trying to save that girl, what’s your fucking deal?”  
Ramula yanks his arm away from you, causing you to glare at the back of him with disbelief.

“Seen a lot of kids your age come and go,” he says. “Tried to protect a lot of fucking kids, and I failed a lot, so forgive me if I actually am trying to toughen you and your friends up so you don’t get culled too soon.”

And it stings. It stings because you understand that mentality.

That feeling of trying to protect people and failing. And not being good enough.

It stings because for once, someone’s looking out for not only them, but you too.


	7. Pre-Show Entertainment

You’re dismissed. Ramula brings you back to the tent where you sleep, and you can’t help but think that this troll might have some sort of emotional attachment to you. Already. When he brings you in there, he starts to move some of the bunks around.

“You’ll have a cot tonight.” he says as he scans them all over and pulls one off from a top bunk and brings it to the back where you and the others had slept. “Aossid won’t be using it once daybreak hits.”

“You sound pretty emotionless for a guy who just tried to save her.” you comment as he notice how little trouble he has while carrying it. He shrugs and sets the cot down next to Nepeta’s.

“You win some battles, you lose some.” he says as he goes to turn back around to go outside. “Aossid’s been on the chopping block for months, I had a feeling that her last conflict would be coming up soon.”

“So you’re just going to roll over and let her get killed?! What’s the point of that?! You said you’ve seen kids come and go, but you’re not even going to fight for her?!” You’re arguing. It feels natural and a part of you is glad to have that back.

Ramula turns to you, his eyes glowing in brown and green thanks to the shades. He’s unhappy with you. No, more like incredibly irritated. “You’re really going to pick this fight, kid?” he snaps. “You really want to try and argue with the jackass who’s trying to save whoever’s left? I’ve fought for her, and Kedali’s listened, but when he makes up his mind, and when he picks someone up and drags them to his tent--they’re done. You don’t think I’ve tried to fight for the people he carts away? Well I have.”

You don’t know if he’s aware of it, but he’s backed you into the cot, and you’ve fallen back on it, sitting up and staring at him. It takes him a second and he steps back, letting you stand up. He switches his glasses to the teal and violet lenses, and starts to walk back outside. You hear him utter an apology, and you follow after him.  
“So why are you trying to protect me then?” you ask him, catching as he glances back at you.

“Moirail was a mutant.” he says as he pushes the flap back. “Got traded two sweeps ago.”

“Yeah, and so is she--”

“He had red blood. He’s probably dead now.”

It’s unbelievable, you decide. As far as you know, you’re the only red blooded troll on the planet. Of all time. You’re a special unique, disgusting and freak snowflake dripping with a terrifying mutation. Yeah, sure, you were told there are others. But you can’t believe it being a legitimate thing.

“You sure it wasn’t just a really bright shade of maroon?” you ask. Ramula laughs.

“Isn’t that exactly what the color red is?”

He has a point.

Ramula directs you back to where Sollux and Aradia are located, and you sit with them for a while. Ramula has work to do, and you don’t have to do anything. Not yet at least.

“Tho what’th the deal, KK?” Sollux says to you as he nudges you in the ribs, causing you to wince. Way to go, pal, pressing your pointy elbows right in one of the cuts you received. “They killing you, or are they jutht going to make you thuffer for a bit?”

“Sollux, stop it!” Aradia defends you, looking you over, she can see the couple remaining splatters of blood on your face. “Someone beat you up.”

“Yeah, and?” you ask sourly, waving your hand at her as she looks to see if there are any visible marks on you. “Only to be expected, being fucking freak.” She invades your space and pulls up the bottom of your shirt and notices the small scars that came from the psionics that healed them.

“So who patched you up?” she asks. “It’s psionic healing, right, Sollux?” Your friend leans over and takes a look. He doesn’t know exactly. You know and he knows that he only uses his psionics offensively, so seeing defensive work is probably new for all of you.

“Pleathe don’t tell me that douthebag did thith.” Sollux says as he glances off in the direction Ramula headed. You actually laugh a little at the comment.

“He’s not bad, guys.” you admit. “He tried to save someone earlier--”

“The screaming girl?” Aradia asks quickly. “We heard her--”

“Who didn’t?” Sollux interrupts.

“Yeah, he tried to get Kedali to leave her alone, but, well, he kind of failed.”

“Tho what? He killed her?”

You sit there for a moment trying to figure out what to reply with. Your head then shakes with the sad reality. “No, but...Kedali’s going to. Apparently she’s fucked up one time too many for his liking, and even Ramula can’t sway him otherwise.”

Sollux has now dubbed himself (unknowingly) by a new title according to SGRUB. King of Doesn’t-Shut-Up. You’ve decided on this. Fuck being whatever-of-doom. He’s now King of Doesn’t-Shut-Up.

“What’th hith deal with him anywayth? They fucking?”

“Yes, we are.”

You mentally change Sollux’s title again to King of Douche. Ramula has overheard the conversation among the three of you on his way back to where-ever-the-fuck, and decides to interject. You watch as Sollux’s face turns into a frown, similar to the frown he has when around Eridan. It’s a combination of both disgust, humor and disbelief. Aradia laughs a little bit as you both watch the complete shift in Sollux’s expression.

“Tho...you’re--”

“Matesprits.”

Sollux is not the only one thrown for a loop. You actually cough, stammering to yourself at the word. You know quadrants. You know how they work. You know how matespritships work. And from your exposure to Ramula and Kedali, this was hardly a matespritship. It was more blackrom in your eyes, and probably everyone around you. You try and wrap your head around the concept of Ramula willingly being in a relationship with Kedali. You hardly know either of them, but you still decide there is absolutely no way they could be a thing.

“Yeah, I know. But it works.” he says this quickly. “And no, it’s not a secret.”

You sit in silence with Aradia and Sollux for a moment as Ramula stares the three of you down.

“You waiting for anything else shocking? Waiting for me to tell you about our pailing life?”

“No, god, no!” you shout, making Ramula laugh.

He turns his attention to Sollux and Aradia, who you’ve gathered are working together on their act for this. “Lispy, I’m gonna need you to help me with my act tomorrow, you up for it?”

You notice that in comparison to the night before, Ramula is treating you all more kindly. You’re guessing he’s not afraid to show a little weakness around you. After all. You’re kids in his eyes.

“Why thould I want to help you? Pretty thure you tried to thtrangle me yethterday.” Sollux growls. “And why would you even trutht me? If I were you I’d be pretty thure that the kid I tried to choke to death would want to kill me.”

Ramula just rolls his eyes at Sollux. “Kid, everyone’s gotta put on an act when Kedali’s around, you want an apology for that, sure. Sorry I choked you. That what you want?”

You notice how Sollux actually seems somewhat surprised to see someone apologizing. He accepts the apology before Ramula pulls him to the side, to discuss what’s going on. You’re left alone with Aradia who is giving you a look.

“What did he tell you?” she asks.

You sigh and look at her. “He’s been through some real shit, and he wants to keep us safe.” you reply as you watch him and Sollux walk away.

“You know why?”

You pretend you don’t know. But if his comment about his moirail sharing a blood color with you is anything to go by, you figure that he sees a lot in you and the others. It’s almost reassuring to know that he’s trying to protect your friends, just as much as you are.

 

The show begins a few hours later. You’ve often heard about the strange, religious connotation that comes with highblood rituals, particularly indigo bloods. Kedali is too blueblooded to be a genuine indigo, but the influence is there in his show.

The main tent is black and violet on the outside, cascading from the very top in stripes, only to spiral out as the tent touches the ground. The whole body of the tent is covered in spirals and whorls that staring too long could hypnotize you. You don’t have to perform, and apparently, neither do the other mutants. Your job instead is to make sure that everything is torn down appropriately. Instead of the usual mutant act to close the show, tonight is a sacrifice.

You had considered forming a rescue operation to save Aossid, but there’s no way. You know there’s no way for it to be pulled off without someone getting killed in the process. You’re not going to risk your friends lives. Even though you know you might be able to save her. But it’s too much of a risk. People have to die. It’s not fair, but that’s how it has to be.

The outside of the tent is deceptive. It looks small, shallow almost but when you walk inside it stretches upwards what seems to be hundreds of feet, benches and rafters circling around a giant ring of flattened grass in the center. You’d always been under the impression that there are multiple rings inside of a circus’s center, but there’s just the open circle and the risers.

The ceiling of the tent is decorated in what you assume are religious symbols. Several trolls, all with terrifying, smiling faces gazing down at the audience, each of them holding strange relics. Splatterings of color are adorned between each figure, giving the impression of blood, trickling down the sides of the tent, as if it’s slowly dripping down to the ground below. You’re new to this world, and you know you’re getting sucked in.

Among the figures on the ceiling, there’s a smiling face, almost identical to the face that you’ve seen your supposed moirail use in conversation. Thinking of him makes your stomach twist. You don’t know where he is. You don’t know if he’s alive. You want him to be safe.

“Newbie.” You find yourself standing in the center of the ring, staring at the face when some other troll grabs you by the arm. “You the newbie, right?”

You turn back to see a girl standing by you, a strange bird-like symbol on her shirt in bright, jade green. You’re staring. You thought you had overheard the highbloods mentioning how jade bloods were sacred, and not allowed to be put into tents.

“Yeah, what? Is something--”

“They’re a-about to start seating, we’ve got to hide i-in the back.” You hear a sort of fluttering sound to some of her words, thinking that you have a thought about what her quirk might be if she was writing to you.

You’re a little dazed, and she grabs you by the arm. She says something quietly about you getting caught, and she pulls you behind some of the bleachers. “We’re not a-allowed to be o-out there when the highbloods take their seats. Safer down here.”

Her voice is soft, and you can’t tell if she’s just whispering or if she’s just naturally quiet. “What do you mean by caught?”

“Ceiling i-is meant to hypnotize lowbloods for pre-show e-entertainment.” You look at her as she peers out beneath the legs of a bench and the floor supporting it. “I-It’s a-a trap. I-It paralyzes you a-and brings you to the center o-of the ring. Numbs you. Makes you o-oblivious to e-everything a-around you.” She swears suddenly as someone wanders out to the center and she starts to go out, but stops in her tracks. You can see why. Large trolls, symbols ranging from teal to indigo, start to wander into the tent, taking seats around the ring. Some merely set something down to claim their seat, and start to go into the ring to the troll in the middle.

She doesn’t need to explain what happens after someone gets trapped in the center.

Most of the trolls going out are holding weapons. Nothing bigger than a knife or a club, but they’re all starting to line up around the troll, malicious grins plastered on their face. You hear a speaker crackle and a voice rings out. It’s a girl, and she sounds rather cheerful.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we present to you a little surprise opener! We’d like to introduce you to Irisai! He’s a brown blood, the hue cusping on the tan-yellow border. It seems he has become entrapped in our Mirth Snare!”

“Mirth snares a-are weak chucklevoodoos...o-only e-effect lowbloods with a-a lot of personal demons. Once you get trapped in one, the longer you stay, the harder i-it i-is to leave. They make a-all your fears become more real than e-ever a-and e-eventually, you become so numb that the o-only way o-out is death.”

The girl looks you over, and you can feel yourself transfixed by what is starting to occur in the ring.

“Highbloods like to say i-it’s a mercy killing. A-Apparently i-in the o-old days Mirth Snares were o-only used to trap the most i-insane o-of trolls. Now, they just use i-it a-as e-entertainment.”

You can’t look away. You almost feel like you’re as paralyzed as Irisai, trapped in the ring. But you know you’re far away from it all. Far away as the highbloods start to attack the troll in the ring. He’s not even fighting as brown blood splatters throughout the ring. He’s not even screaming as his stomach is slashed open. You’ve seen trolls get killed before. In movies. But you’ve never seen it for real. If you didn’t know that this was normal for your kind, you’d be repulsed. His stomach spills on to the ground. Innards being yanked free by bare hands, someone claiming a few feet of what you suspect are digestion tubes as a prize. The troll that rips them free wraps them around his neck like a scarf before taking a seat in the stands. You watch as another one jabs her thumbs in his eyes, ripping both free from the sockets. She happily tosses one eye into her mouth and crunches down, swallowing it before returning to her seat. You can’t look away as someone else pulls up the trolls arm, hacking off reach knuckle of each finger, smiling widely as each piece is yanked off. You’re stunned. Unmoving. Watching as bits and pieces of him are hacked off, pulled apart, severed from bone.

What upsets you is how fast it is. You don’t think it lasted more than five minutes. And when the crowd clears, there’s only a few hideous bloodstains on the ground. No body parts. Just blood.

The participants all walked away with trophies.

When they ring is clear, you notice the stands are full, and there are legs blocking your view. The girl next to you puts a hand on your shoulder.

“That was a-almost you.” she says as she pulls you further behind the stands. “Disgusting, a-aren’t they?”

“Highbloods?” you watch as she grimaces.

“Yes. They’re horrible. I-I hate them. They’re a-all terrible, disgusting people. They don’t deserve to live i-in luxury like they do.”

You’re actually offended by that. You have a moirail who happens to be a highblood. You have to correct her.

“Hey, they’re not all bad. My moirail’s a highblood. I’m friends with a bunch of them!” She starts to laugh.

“I-If you had a-a highblooded moirail you wouldn’t be here.” She then grabs you by the arm and pulls you away from watching the show. “You don’t want to be here right now a-anyways.”

You walk off with her, glancing out as the show begins. You see Kedali, dressed to the nines, walking out, starting the show.

“My suggestion i-is to stay back here u-until the show is totally o-over. U-Unless you want to see A-Aossid get culled.”

So when the girl pulls you out back, behind the tent, you find yourself among others. Many of them with grey symbols on their shirts, indicating a hidden blood color. Others look normal. Nothing out of the loop.

“Thisss the new guy?” someone says, their voice almost hissing as he speaks. “‘E don’t look like much.”

“You’re shitting us right Pavani? Why didn’t you let him stay out there and get culled instead! He’s fucking scrawny.”

You don’t say anything, mostly because you don’t want to get into a fight, especially after what you just saw. You look at the girl who was apparently named Pavani. She opens her mouth to speak, only to get interrupted.

“He can help us.” You see Pavani smile, and some of the others (it can’t be more than a dozen people) shut their traps.. “He’s one of the kids from the door.” He pauses. “The SGRUB door.”


	8. Ringleader

Your name is Gamzee Makara.

 

And you haven't been sleeping well. You had closed your eyes after finding yourself sliding into a most unexpected pale quadrant with the troll you've always called your best motherfucking friend. You weren't expecting to be lying on a pile of animal pelts, discussing feelings and sharing in a gentle little pale kiss with your new moirail. But being able to actually make him smile made you feel better than you could possibly imagine. 

But it's when you were woken up in the middle of the day to two masked trolls, hands covering your mouth that you had to comply. They tell you to come quietly or they won't harm the others. They tell you that your caste is needed. They'll even spare the filthy seadwellers sleeping in a pile nearby. They tell you that the entire planet knows about the glowing blue hive that slowly landed down on Alternia. They tell you that they need you and you need to get your ass moving

So you go with them. You don't argue. You're too doped up on sopor slime to really make much more sense of this than what's necessary. As far as your pan has registered it, they said "come with us, or we hurt your friends." That was enough to motivate you.

Once you leave Nepeta's hive, the masked trolls pull your arms behind your back and tie them together. You can tell they don't want you going anywhere as they guide you to a truck and throw you into the back. One of them stays with you in the back, as you sit yourself down on a bench along the side of the car. There's a few other masked trolls back there, and they're laughing.

"Little shit's too stoned to care what's happening!" the one that followed you into the truck says.

"What's he on? Stardust?"

"Don't know, but look at his fucking eyes! He's so zoned out!" The trolls in the back of the van with you start laughing and one of you turns to you his hand in your face.

"Hey fucker, how many fingers you see?"

But they are right about one thing. You're too strung out to even realize what's going on. You don't see fingers. You see something much more majestic.

"Ain't seeing all fingers. Just seeing a golden cluckbeast."

You hear them all start laughing, and you're not sure how to react, so you just start laughing too. You don't know why they're laughing, but hey, something's funny. So you just get your chuckle rolling along with theirs.

You don't know how long the truck has been going but by the time it's stopped, it's dark again, the two moons glowing overhead, no longer hurting your eyes to get your look on.

The destination looks unimpressive. It's just a square box of a hive, and the trolls pull you out of the truck and bring you inside. There's nothing in the hive, just a staircase and they push you towards it.

You have found yourself in a highblood strong hold. They don't want to hurt you. But they want you to listen.

When you are brought down stairs, you're led into a room that reminds you of a Carnival. Bright colors decorating the walls, mirthful faces eyeing you, treats and games and prizes to be won, tempting you to explore the novelties surrounding you. The faces and eyes staring at you are not just painted on the wall, but there are other trolls, many of them wearing formal attire.

Someone behind you cuts the binding on your arm, and you smile at all the curious faces. You wave. And they all begin to whisper.

Someone else appears at your side. It's a girl troll, maybe a sweep older than you and she doesn't say anything, she just offers you a hand. You don't get it, but you take her hand as she guides you to the other side of the room. She seems to be incredibly excited as she brings you to this ancient looking throne.

It's black, and upon it, there is a symbol mimicking your own, as well as rings in indigo decorating the sides. Behind it, the walls are decorated in every color imaginable, and the floor is littered in bones. You look the chair over and the girl releases her hand, folding her hands in front of her.

"Thanks, sis. Pretty snazzy digs you got in here." you say as you sit down on the chair. 

But as you get settled the owners of all them eyes in the room begin to bow, dropping to their knees. They're submitting to you, and you can't get your pan wrapped around it. The girl who brought you forward is still standing and she bows to you before standing up straight and facing the other trolls in the room.

"Brothers and sisters," she says, a hand extending, pointing towards you. "I present to you, our Grand Highblood reborn."

You wouldn't find out right away, but you would in a few days. 

You would find that your religion is law. Why else would there be so many circuses.

You would find that your religion isn't what you thought it was.

And in the eyes of your blood-kin, you are so much more than a sopored up child. You'd put all kinds of wonder into learning about the mirthful messiahs, but you never expected for your religion to view you as being them.

You're pampered over the next night or so. Whatever food or comforts you could want, you receive. You ask if you can go back to your friends, they tell you not to worry, that they will be taken care of.

They even allow you to partake in your vice that is sopor slime, consume as much as you like to keep you in a delirious haze. They said your friends would be taken care of, you don't worry.

After all, what could be bad? They all seem so willing to make you happy. What could go wrong?

Things do go wrong.

They go wrong at the third night. They cut your access to sopor slime, despite you pleading for more.

And they bleed you dry. Not of blood, but of the delicious gel that you've been shoveling into your gut for your entire life.

And it pains you. And you hit rock bottom.

And you feel yourself not being yourself. You feel yourself getting angry. Spiteful. Violent. Other highbloods check in on you, all smiling and trying to soothe you, make the struggle you're no doubt going through feel better.

And it's then that you make your first move.

The woman who had been at your side since arrival, the woman who brought you to your throne--it was YOUR throne, no one else's, YOURS--she had reached out to touch your face. Your cheek to be exact. She could see how you were lost in a fit, trying not to scream. Trying to get yourself something to ease the throbbing and the protesting of your body as you felt the last effects of the slime drip away.

But her gesture offends you. You don't relax when she touches you and you grab her by the throat. You grab her tight as her own violet blood starts to erupt from beneath your finger nails. You see how she doesn't struggle, in fact, her hands aren't even at your hand to pull back. She's smiling at you.

You hate that she's smiling, so you let your hands just grip tighter until you've pierced the skin so much that you can only see purple on your hands. And she just keeps smiling. You want her to stop. 

YOU WANT HER TO STOP.

So you jerk your hand back, and with it, you're tearing her throat with you. There's purple splattering on to the walls, on the throne, on your face.

Her body falls, as you drop a chunk of throat, and veins and esophagus in your lap. No way she's going to breathe any time soon.

You feel a lot better.


	9. Box Seats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry this is very info-dumpy. It's why it took so long for this. I'm sorry I hated this chapter.

**Be Karkat Vantas.  
You are once again Karkat Vantas.**

You just had it brought to your attention that possession of a copy of SGRUB is a crime punishable by death. It turns out that after the sudden disappearance of twelve wigglers was reported (without any claim from neighbors about where they had vanished to) copies of SGRUB was found in each of their hives, and most noteably: the hive of the empress to be. Lead teams of hackers investigated all of the copies of the game, any computers present and while they were not able to figure out how it worked, something had been concluded. It was responsible for the disappearance of highbloods (no one cared about anyone below the jade caste) and it was now banned.

Apparently, across the planet, hundreds of people got arrested. Hundreds got killed.

So when word of the symbol of SGRUB showing up on the planet with the twelve lost wigglers exiting it, spread through the entire political system of highbloods. All of you were considered fugitives for having access to SGRUB. As far as they were concerned, you were all able to make that door at will, and they saw it as a threat.

You didn’t know why this pertained to you, but as far as they could tell you, it meant an escape from the circus. The others try and tell you what they mean by an escape.

And you become painfully aware that they think you can create the door into SGRUB, back to that horrible meteor.

“Why would you even think that going into that game is a good idea?” you ask them finally after they explain to you why they are so interested in your return from the game. “You don’t understand. There is a fucking hell beast who wants to kill me and my friends, and probably all of you too. We just barely got here before he came down and attacked us. If we go back there, we’re all dead! Don’t you get it?”

“We played too. We know what you are all facing.” You notice the others turning and a troll sitting further in the back seems to make himself visible. He gets up, walking towards you with a slight limp in his left leg, but he’s smiling as if nothing’s wrong. He looks almost as if at one point in his life, he might have acted like you. His eyes have heavy bags beneath them, one of which is bright with a bruise, and you can see the lines of a scowl on his face. His hair is a similar state of disarray and for a moment you think you’ve encountered yourself as an adult, miniature flames of self-hate flickering to life in the forefront of your mind.

But when he’s right up in front of you, you manage to see the small, peaceful smile on his face turn into a broad grin as he grasps your hands, pulling them upwards, his eyes lighting up. You can’t see the lines of his features anymore, his appearance now mimicking that of a freshly hatched wiggler.

“You even bear his sign.” he says, the sound of complete astonishment in his voice, while you find that you currently lack one. You take a moment to notice that his sight is some odd triangle with two lines going down through it, one vertically, one slightly diagonal, and a curved bottom to the sign. But the first thing you truly take in about the sign is that it’s somehow another hue of grey, like your sign.

You don’t understand. And you don’t think you want to.

He pushes up your sleeves and sees the color of the veins of your wrists, and the flakes of dried blood peeling off your skin. He seems to be beyond thrilled to see that you exist. At least someone likes your existence, you would still rather be rotting in a heap of dismembered corpses half the time.

“We are what remains of our session, we lost our game, but we found a loophole, we were able to return home, but I must confess that I think we may have cursed Alternia in doing so.” You find yourself jerking back as he speaks, his tone enthusiastic and his expression far too cheerful given the circumstances. “That’s why we’re here. We’re convicts according to Alternian law--”

“Why are you telling me this, and why do you think I care?” You interrupt him and finally yank your hands away from the strange troll. Pavani seems to want to interject, but you see how this new troll is trying to keep her back, just by looking at her.

“We want to fix this.” the troll fascinated by you says. “We know that this is not what Alternia is to be. We know that even though it was an oppressed planet already, that it was at least more equal than this mess.” The other places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you down a bit, allowing you to sit down on a crate that has since been unoccupied for you to take a seat. The troll then kneels before you, and his lips pull into a smile. “We’re convinced we ultimately doomed Alternia into becoming an indigo playground, and we’ve all been speaking--”

He removes the hand from your shoulder and motions towards the small group of trolls sitting around you.

“We think if your session plays the game again, you can fix what we messed up.”

In your mind, this makes no sense. The troll tries to explain it better, and as far as you can figure it out...It starts to become logical. Shortly before you and your friends started playing SGRUB, another group was playing it. They had started perhaps a whole hour earlier than you had, from what you understood. But their session became far too doomed to truly keep going. And they learned how to hack their game so they could return back to Alternia, as if the game had never happened. As if nothing was destroyed. As if the game had never been played. But somewhere in their attempts to hack the game, something went wrong. And Alternia became the hellhole that you were now stranded on.

And as far as this troll and his friends were concerned: if you played SGRUB again, you could fix this.

“So why can I fix this shit? Seems like it’s your fault, so why don’t you go back and play through it again?” He’s smiling at you again (What the fuck, does this bastard ever stop smiling? You want to punch him in his cheerful fucking mug, you swear. He has no reason to smile.)

“I don’t know!” He says this quickly, and honestly that you’re surprised he said it at all. He doesn’t know? You swear you are going to gut this guy before dawn comes. “I know it’s silly, but I think your possession of his sign is just the reason I need.”

“Whose sign?!” you find yourself shouting at the overly-cheerful-fuckface. “Twice you’ve mentioned this ugly ass symbol on my clothes, and I don’t know what you’re even talking about!”

But he doesn’t answer, and he just smiles further. You don’t know if it’s unnerving or not yet, but you want to learn some things.

“Will you quiet if I tell you a secret?” he adds, looking at you calmly as you begin a classic rant, prepared to flip your lid at any little slip up that might truly offend you.

“What could you possibly tell me that would get me to shut my mouth for any given second? Do you not see that I am currently dealing with an overly optimistic douchewaffle who is talking to me as if I’m some sort of wiggler who is still learning about the fucking world? Or are you too convinced that I’m some sort of fucking messiah that will save your lame ass from this doomed wasteland that we call a home planet? Well here’s some news for you jackass, if I don’t know what your fucking goal is then I’m not going to help you out! How do I know you’re not just going to cull me and feast on--”

But the mystery troll grabs your shoulder again and then moves his hand quickly to your cheek. His fingers and palm glide slowly over your flesh, the index finger of his free hand moving to his lips. He whispers quietly, shushing you, his expression and entire demeanor entirely calm and relaxed. You feel yourself settling down, and that sudden need to scream and tear him apart from limb to limb---that minor feeling of a caliginous crush perhaps?-- was gone.

“Shh. Your name is Vantas, yes?” He speaks softly, and you give a faint nod of your head. You don’t see him smiling, but he probably is, as he turns his index finger horizontally so he can bite down on it. He pulls it free after a second, revealing something incredibly...

Comforting

Down his finger drips the familiar red of your blood, and he’s showing it to you with a sort of serene demeanor that you weren’t expecting.

“We share an ancestor.” he whispers. “And you share his sign.”

**Stop being Karkat Vantas.**

**You are no longer Karkat Vantas.**

**Be the overly smiling troll whom Karkat Vantas is vaguely considering a black crush on.**

**You are now the smiling troll.**

**It is only today that the smiling troll will be given a name. What shall we call the charming admirer?**

>Freakblood Asskisser

**That is absolutely silly. Try again.**

>Visket Kunist

**That’s more like it.**

Your name is Visket Kunist, and you are trying to appease the descendent of the troll whose stories you’ve heard many a great thing about. Your matesprit, a fiery, spirited olive blood, received a gift from her now-passed-on lusus, an old book, speaking of the wonderful dreams of a man known as the Signless. Within the book, little etchings of two looped symbols atop of one another have been scribbled throughout it. The language is older, but there’s a way to decipher and understand it without clouding ones head with nonsense. Your matesprit and yourself read through the book, and it was as if the dreams you had had as a wiggler (truly dreams) were not only yours. The story document told of a red blooded troll, preaching equality despite his mutation. He sounded so much like yourself. But you were so angry all the time, and this other troll was so peaceful sounding.

And you figured that if you changed your attitude, maybe you could follow in this trolls path. Maybe your mutation of your blood made you one of his descendents. Was it even possible that a mutant could actually produce wigglers? Could someone even become his matesprit? Your matesprit would point out to you that the scribe who had collected these stories spoke of the Signless in ways that made you and she both realize that the author’s fondness indicated a flushed relationship.

You wanted to see this dream come true. Especially once you returned to Alternia to see the oppression of the lower castes grow so much. The return to Alternia was beyond an eye opener. It was stronger than a wake up call. It was stronger than anything you ever felt. But if your thoughts were correct, if you were descended from this mutant, then perhaps, it was fate for you to continue his work. Maybe there were others like you. Maybe red blood was not as much of a mutation anymore. Maybe it had secretly become its own caste without really trying. Perhaps other red blooded trolls had been secretive enough to hide their color long enough to pail and pass on the gene.

When you returned to Alternia and you and your friends were herded into camps, when you watched as the highbloods culled your former moirail (a seadweller) in front of your eyes--when you screamed, prepared to take down anyone who tried to harm your friends--you shut yourself away. You were prepared to let the runners of your first camp take you down and cull you if they felt it was necessary. You were prepared for them to bleed you dry for your blood. But when they saw your color and seemed pleased to see the mutation, mentioning that they were lucky to score themselves one of those red blooded trolls that the subjugglators seemed to adore, you were given your second chance.

Before then you were ready to die fighting. Unlike little Karkat Vantas, your friends were not simply split between highbloods and lowbloods. You were split based on talents. To each according to his talents, to each according to his needs, or something along those lines. Yourself, your lime blooded friend, a cerulean former kismesis, and a gold blood were thrown into one camp, your matesprit, and two others in another. You were all separated. By some miraculous twist of fate, after nearly a sweep of bouncing from camp to camp, all but one of you had been reunited. He had blue-violet blood, so you aren’t surprised. You suppose the Subjugglators had recruited him. Almost broke your heart to know. He’d always been unstable. He had made amazing social progress to become at least mostly functioning, but knowing that he was others of his blood caste, he probably was going to relapse.

But when you had been first brought into the camps, when they commented on your blood, you remember demanding to meet the others. You wanted to meet the other ones of your blood color. They were surprised at how passionate you were about wanting to meet them. As if they were shocked to realize that you had no idea there were others like you. You made it very clear to your highblood captors that you had thought your entire life that you were a freak, that there is no documentation of your blood color. You were sure that your blood color was a joke. You were natures punchline.

They make it clear to you that you blood is not as freakish as you might think.

It’s just that none of your caste ever lives long enough to make it a caste worth mentioning. It’s definitely a caste of its own. Small, and uncommon, about a percentage of the population. The only caste with fewer of the color was the Tyrian caste. But a mutation? Sure, it was just that at the beginning. It was still regarded as one in many areas.

But it was a caste of its own.

You’re just rare enough that others would consider your color a mutation, and others would find humor in the strange shade of red.

It gave off a smell, according to one of your captors, a sweet one. It was usually useless to hide the color, because the smell was so obvious to those in tune with the scent.

You didn’t get to meet any other red blooded trolls until a few months later. It was a young boy who frankly, you thought should have been culled. He was weak, he was scrawny, he was hardly five feet tall. He could hardly do the normal work at the camp. But he trusted you when he saw your shared blood color. You had kin for a short period. A very short period. He was crushed by a falling log after a month.

So when you heard of another red blood being in your camp after your position for as long as you were, and finding that he was a new arrival. You knew you had to protect him. You knew that he would be someone you needed to bring on to your good side.

But he very obviously didn’t like you. So that made things difficult. You tried to be patient with him, but he seemed to find you intolerable. But that was to be expected. You had assumed your whole life that your blood probably caused frustration within those who shared it.  
He’s calling you out, as you explain your situation. As you are trying to tell him briefly that you and he are not so different. That you need him, and that without directly saying it, you need him. You need it for a matter of validation. You need to be sure that your existence as being a red blooded troll is not something you should be ashamed of. You want him to be someone who knows that you are proud of your color. You try to tell him about your game. And how you doomed your friends (you don’t have the heart to tell him how badly you would have doomed them if you kept your game going).

You need to calm him down, so you try and comfort him. You do what feels right and try to soothe him. You whisper. You shush him. You show him that you’re not an enemy. You think as far as you can tell, this young troll (you can tell that despite his looks, the boy cannot be much older than six or seven) is scared of you. Scared that he’s going to get hurt and bullied. Ramula told you earlier that some of the other lowbloods of the camp beat him up pretty terribly earlier that day, that he witnessed young Aossid get in trouble. That he was already on Kedali’s bad side. He was scared. You could feel it in him as he stared at you. You could hear in your mind how he was panicking. You used what you knew of your class’s skills to get in touch with his. He needs to be reassured you mean him no harm.

You move your finger and bite down. You wait until you taste the flavor of metal on your tongue and you reveal the color of blood to Karkat Vantas. You assure him that you and he are bound by blood. That you share a common ancestor. At least you hope so.

You feel the fear flood away. You see how his entire face softens. You see the lines of anger, confusion and frustration wash away from him. You remove your hand from his face, and you lower it so he can see that you’re not trying to threaten him.

“I want to help you.” you say to him. “And I would like you to help me as well. I think we can all fix what Alternia has become, and I think we can rebuild it as something much better.”

**You are once again Karkat Vantas.**

You’ve suddenly felt as if everything is...going to be okay.

You might be harboring some immediate dislike for this troll. But he shares your color. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

He wants to help.

You nod to him, it’s a short one. but you’re quick about it.  
“Tell me the whole story.” you say. “I won’t say yes until I know every detail.”

The smile never vanished from his face, it only grows.

“My life is an open book.” he says. “Skim the contents and I will tell you whatever you need to know.”


End file.
